


take me back in time (to love you)

by impravidus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Best Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gay Harley Keener, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Harley Keener is a Good Bro, Hurt Peter Parker, Kid Harley Keener, Kid Peter Parker, Light Angst, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Precious Peter Parker, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impravidus/pseuds/impravidus
Summary: Childhood best friends, Peter Parker and Harley Keener's friendship is ripped apart when Peter's parents are killed in a plane crash and he has to move to New York to live with his Aunt and Uncle. But, when his superhero identity is revealed to the world, he goes back to Rose Hill with a new identity, but Harley would never forget him.AKA: Best Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers AU
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener/Peter Parker
Comments: 53
Kudos: 188





	1. buddies! bros! homies! amigos!

From the moment they were born, Harley and Peter were destined to be best friends.

Their mothers, Macy and Mary, had been best friends since high school when the two were on the cheerleading team together, and had settled in two lovely houses in their hometown of Rose Hill nextdoor to the other.

Soon after Macy’s announced her pregnancy, Mary had found out about her own bundle of joy. Richard was a doting soon-to-be father. He took Mary out to frozen yogurt every day and did midnight grocery runs to get her spray cheese and pickled onions. He rubbed her aching feet and sang to their son before they went to bed and painted the nursery baby blue and insisted Mary stay far away from the fumes.

Adam Keener, well, he wasn’t as enthusiastic as Richard. He constructed the crib with strings of expletives and drank all the coffee and beer he wanted in front of his pregnant wife and didn’t tone down his smoking, saying that he was “going outside, so it doesn’t matter.”

Mary would never say it, but she knew that Macy deserved better. Macy had it for those kinds of guys. When they were in high school, she dated this guy that worked at the butcher shop down the road, and he wasn’t a nice guy at all. Leaving with her with bruises and running mascara, Mary went straight to his home and threatened to break it off with Macy or she would come and “personally castrate you with your favorite butchering knife.”

Throughout college and their early adult lives, Mary would have to fight off the bad guys who Macy lured in with her innocence and oblivious optimism. That was, until she met Richard.

Richard was everything she had dreamed in a man. Intelligent yet humble, sarcastic yet respectful, polite but still fun. He was the first man she met who didn’t talk down her interests in the scientific world, and after a first date of spilled soda at the cinema and a second date featuring anaphylactic shock, they actually made a strong couple. And, while Mary was falling for Richard, Macy met Adam.

Adam was an old-fashioned kind of guy, and well, most guys in Rose Hill, Tennessee were. He was controlling, mostly to mask his fragile hypermasculinity and crippling insecurity. He was an architect, and had a long commute to Memphis every morning and night. He’d come home and down bottles of beers, passing out on the couch with a sloppy, inebriated kiss to his loving wife. 

Macy didn’t know what it was like to feel loved. She didn’t know what it was like to have a husband who would put down everything he was doing to cater to her wants. She didn’t know what true love felt like. That was, until she had Harley.

In that moment, she knew that there was nothing in the whole world that she wouldn’t do for her little boy. His big blue eyes stared up at her with wonder, his little hands grabbing at her long blonde curls. She knew in that moment that she would never let anything come in between her and her little boy.

Mary had Peter just five days after Harley was born, and from then on, the two boys were inseparable. 

Harley and Peter grew up together. As babies, Macy and Mary spent their maternity leave together, letting the boys keep each other company as the two mothers relaxed and chatted. Macy was there at the hospital with Mary when Peter had his first hospitalized for his respiratory issues. Mary was there when Harley had his first allergic reaction to his blueberry puree. 

As toddlers, the two created endless mischief. Harley walked before Peter, and would run around the house, Peter crawling as fast as he could behind them before inevitably getting an asthma attack. When he was able to walk too, Harley would slow to his pace, holding his hand as they both walked.

At three, the two had discovered their shared love in building. It started with blocks and train tracks, then Legos and Bristle Blocks, but especially puzzles.

Puzzles became their new favorite pastime. The boys, hunched over their little wooden table, started with twelve count. But the numbers grew to one hundred then one thousand. They did circular puzzles and puzzles where the picture was from the perspective from another character and puzzles that were just one color. They would do nothing but play the radio and do puzzles for hours.

Soon, the two began preschool and discovered their love of learning. Peter, his big brown eyes amplified by his round frames, and Harley, messy blonde hair in a bucket hat, scribbled recited their numbers and letters with ease, quizzing each other when they went back home, snacking on their crackers and grape juice. 

In kindergarten, Harley and Peter realized that they didn’t exactly fit in with the other kids. But, it didn’t matter much to them because they had each other.

That Christmas, they got a set of walkie talkies, and talked every night they didn’t spend together on them for hours.

When the two were five, Harley got a big red wagon. He discovered that when Peter sat in the wagon, he could pull him around and take him wherever he wanted without Peter getting an asthma attack. So, the two (with their parents following closely behind) would explore the trails and the bustling streets of Rose Hill. They discovered a small ice cream shop down the street and made it routine to go every Friday after school and get a scoop.

On New Years Eve, Harley and Peter kissed for the first time. Giddy on sparkling cider, the two shared a quick peck as the clock turned to 12:00 while the adults let out rowdy cheers. They giggled and let out a loud, squeaky “Happy New Year!”

The summer of their sixth birthdays, Richard began to construct their treehouse. As much as he despised Adam and all he did to the Keener family, he sure as hell wished he had his architectural skills. He knew how to use a circular saw and a drill, but he wouldn’t say he was an expert at building something that his children would be in, five feet off the ground. 

When the first part of the base was finished, his brown hair soaked with sweat. He called the boys over to take a walk around the floor, see how they felt, and they ended up sitting on the base drinking (very) iced tea under the shade of the tree leaves.

The next few weeks, he finally got the walls up, collapsing on the couch after a cold shower, enjoying _Meet the Robinsons_ for the umpth time of the month with a bag of freshly popped popcorn and oreo milkshakes (with lactose free ice cream). Peter rested his head on Harley’s shoulder as they watched their movie, sipping on his milkshake with a jumbo straw.

The treehouse was finally finished in the fortnight. The two furnished their treehouse with a big tall table to do puzzles with two chairs with cushy cushions on them. In the corner was their beanbags, a blue one for Peter and a bright pink one for Harley. They strung Christmas lights on the walls and connected them to the house on several extension cords and a timer that automatically switched them on and off when the sun set and rose. It even had a fan to keep them cool in the boiling Tennessee summers.

Harley and Peter spent most of their time in their treehouse. Finishing puzzles and completing homework and just laying in their beanbags, Peter’s head resting on Harley’s chest as he ran his fingers through Peter’s brown curls, it was their safe haven.

School was never easy for the two. Being the smartest kids at their elementary school and not hiding their obsessions with all things nerdy, they were ostracized. But they had each other. That’s all that mattered.

It was winter break when everything fell apart. One day, Peter just disappeared. His parents told him that Peter had to move away to live with his Uncle and Aunt because his parents went to heaven too early, but Harley didn’t truly understand what that meant. He was now alone, an outsider with no friends who didn’t fit in with anyone else. Peter was gone, and he didn’t know what to do anymore.


	2. goin' back to rose hill

A new identity. A new life. A new shot at normality. That’s what SHIELD promised Peter. 

He lost everything from Beck. He lost his identity. He lost his life. He lost his shot at normality. He lost the ability to go to his high school graduation, top of his class at an esteemed STEM school. He lost his opportunity to go to his senior prom. He lost Spider-Man, the thing that kept him sane and made him feel like he had worth and like he was making a difference. 

SHIELD and Stark Industries were working overtime to cover up the scandal and handle it, but Peter needed to stay out of the spotlight while they did so. His murder charges were lifted once Beck made the mistake of coming back for revenge and was arrested for his terrorist ways, but the public eye of Spider-Man and the final battle between Spider-Man and the resurrected Mysterio was still… uneasy.

Peter Parker was still under major scrutiny by the government and by the public, and well, some people still conspired that it was Peter Parker’s doing and that Peter Parker was guilty.

So, there he was. Hair grown out and dyed black and purple, blue eye contacts in, and thick rimmed glasses that the SHIELD agents said masked his distinct face shape.

He was back where he never imagined he’d ever return: Rose Hill, Tennessee. The gentle songs of the birds and scent of freshly cut grass sent him back to his childhood. It was more vibrant than he remembered, but then again, he had extreme astigmatism and didn’t have super, HD Spidey Vision™. 

As they drove through the quiet streets, he caught sight of his old house, the treehouse still sitting strong in the backyard. He felt a pang in his heart.  _ No. I can’t go back. _

May took his hand and squeezed it gently, pushing her blonde pixie cut out of her eyes. 

Peter took a deep sigh and stared out the window.  _ There’s no way to get used to this. _

The house they were staying at was quaint. It had red shutters and exposed brick and a porch with a wind chime. It wasn’t too big, but also not too small. It was comfortable. It was nothing special, and that was what ensured that they would not stick out.

Peter pulled out the suitcases that SHIELD had provided them filled with clothes that weren’t theirs, and headed through the screen door.

He froze as he entered. The houses in Rose Hill all had that same smell. The smell he grew up. The smell of his childhood. The smell of everything before…

He headed up the creaky stairs, each crook and crevice of the house reminding him of what he had left. 

His room was even disguised to be un-Peter Parker like. A dark grey color with posters of things he didn’t like adorning the walls. An electric guitar he didn’t know how to play sat in the corner of the room. Even the desk had a brand of pen he didn’t usually use.

“They really went all out, huh?” Peter said aloud. He sighed as he opened his suitcase. “Why did they even give us clothes to hang up? Why couldn’t they have hung up the clothes themselves?”  
“Authenticity,” May said from the door.

Peter turned around. “Right. Because moving in with no suitcases looks suspicious, but the movers moving all this stuff here with no trace of us isn’t at all.”

“I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s what we’ve got,” May said.

Peter nodded. “I know.”

“At least you’re not trapped in the Compound doing online school for the rest of your life. You’re getting a chance to be around other people and have a real senior year.” She pulled him into a hug.  “And I know you’d much prefer to have your old senior year back, but you can’t, so you gotta find the good in this. Find the good in this new senior year. This new you. There’s gotta be something good, and I know you’ll find it, because you always do.” She kissed his hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too, May.”

“Now, get some rest. You’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

.-~*~-.

Otho F. Strahl High School was nothing like Midtown. At least at Midtown, there were three big groups you could be part of: people who were on scholarships, people who weren’t but were there for the STEM classes, and people who had rich parents. 

At Otho F. Strahl, there were very different crowds. Different types of whispers than he was used to. Different types of people and cliques and groups.

Of course, there’s something to judge him for. Why SHIELD insisted that his cover be a mix between emo and Tik Tok soft boi, he didn’t know, but it definitely made him act differently than he usually would.

At least the clothes were baggy and soft.

He walked with his head down, staring at his schedule that he had already memorized for classes he knew he would at least not be too bored in, and didn’t bother going to his locker, instead shuffling to AP Calculus.

Peter set his backpack down next to the desk with his name (well, fake name) on a sticky note in the corner, and took out his Starkphone (an older model, since he had to trade in his brand new Starkphone for one more inconspicuous). 

SHIELD required Peter to cut off all ties with his old life which meant no texting his old friends or checking in on their social media and when he texted Pepper or Happy, it had to be through pre-determined code that to the normal eye looked like basic small talk.

He scrolled through Instagram, trying to ignore the news accounts covering the recent  _ Spider-Man v. Mysterio  _ trial. He shut it off, resting his head in his arms on his desk, shutting his eyes. 

“Hey, New Guy. Didn’t you hear? Panic! at the Disco broke up in 2009. Your look is pretty outdated.”

Peter looked up and held back a rolled eye. “I think it says more about you than me that you know when they split up.”

“Ah, so it’s gonna be like that, huh?” The dark haired teen crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve got some guts picking a fight on your first day, New Kid.”

“Not picking a fight,” Peter said, ducking his head.

“Really? Because I think you are…”

“Ease off, Asher. He just doesn’t know his place. Isn’t that right?” 

Peter looked up to the new voice, heart thumping hard against his chest as he locked eyes with the dreamiest blue eyes he’d ever seen.

“Right?” He repeated.

“R-right. You’re… he’s right.” Peter gulped. 

The blonde furrowed his brows. “Do we know each other?” 

Peter shook his head, anxious that his cover was already blown. “No. I just moved here.”

“Keener, come on. Don’t waste your time on him,” his friend said.

Peter’s eyes went wide. “Keener?”

“Harley Keener.” He looked Peter up and down and gave him a wink. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

Peter, frozen, stammered an “okay” before his face flushed a bright red.

Harley looked over his shoulder as he went back to join his friends in the front of the classroom, a scrunched face and odd smile on his lips.

Peter ran his fingers over his “name.”  _ Max Kornfield.  _ Weird. It was weird. It wasn’t… it wasn’t him. But now it had to be.

“Okay, class. Get to your seats. Class is starting.” 

Harley sat in the desk next to Peter and looked over at his name tag. “Max, huh?”

Peter nodded, plastering a smile. “Yup. That’s me.”

Harley looked at him suspiciously, a spark of recognition that he couldn’t quite place.

The teacher at the front of the room clapped. “We will be taking a diagnostic today, so please take out your calculators and clear them.”

Harley took one last glance at Peter before grabbing his calculator and facing forward again.

.-~*~-.

Turns out that it was very hard to avoid Harley in his classes because he shared almost every class with him, and due to their names, they were paired in all of them.

_ 1st Period: AP Calculus _

_ 2nd Period: AP Spanish _

_ 3rd Period: AP Literature and Composition _

_ 4th Period: Mythology/Etymology _

_ 5th Period: Principals of Machining _

_ 6th Period: AP Government _

_ 7th Period: Engineering Design II _

_ 8th Period: AP Chemistry _

Peter thanked the Gods that he wasn’t stuck in academic classes for his senior year and could actually get the college credits that he needed.

_ College.  _ Something that Peter hadn’t fully thought about. When he was Spider-Man, he wanted to go to NYU or Columbia so he wouldn’t have to hang up the suit but now… he wasn’t sure if being tied down to New York would ever be the right choice.

_ College.  _ The question that floated around. Senior year and you’re supposed to have your life planned out. It’s the “start of the next step of your lives.” It’s one decision closer to “the best years of your life.” It was… it felt unattainable. Unreachable. People in Rose Hill don’t dream big, but Peter? Peter had dreamt big. He wanted a future. But now? He didn’t know if he had one.

The future. College. It’s the looming question that was haunting Peter with every get-to-know-you icebreaker that they do. 

Harley kept glancing over at Peter, a soft familiarity that Peter craved to have but knew he couldn’t embrace. It was quickly taken over by a mask of arrogance and cockiness. Harley made passes at Peter, deterring any affections that could linger, and yet, Peter couldn’t help but keep looking back.

As Peter was packing up after his last period, he felt the presence of Harley behind him. “Can I help you?” Peter asked.

“Asher’s throwing a back to school get together tomorrow night at his parent’s barn, and I’m just here to pass along the invite.”  
Peter looked at him with an incredulous look. “He’s inviting me to his party?”

“Take it or leave it. It’s just an invitation.”

Peter shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not much of the party type.”

Harley rested his hand on the desk, getting closer to the smaller teen. “It could be a good time.”

“Could be?”

“Will be,” Harley corrected. “Plus, I’ll be there, wearing something most likely smokin’ hot, so that must be incentive enough.”

Peter held back a smile. “I’ll think about it.”

“Think I can get your number? To get you the info for the party of course.”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “Right. Info for the party. That’s all.”

Harley gave a sly grin. “Of course. That’s all.”

Peter hesitantly pulled out his phone, but set it down. “Give me your phone. Don’t want the records to show that I texted you first.”

Harley handed him his phone. 

Peter’s fingers stuttered as he instinctually started typing “Peter Parker” and his old number. Quickly he deleted it, praying that Harley had not seen, and typed in “Max Kornfield.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Harley asked with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” Peter repeated.

“Right. You’ll think about it.” Harley looked as though he was going to say something else, but he didn’t.

.-~*~-.

Peter scraped at his second plate of zucchini noodles and meat sauce, not keeping his eye off of the fake candles on the center of the dining table.

“What’s on your mind?” May finally asked. “I can hear you thinking from over here.”

“I saw Harley Keener today.”

May frowned. “You mean…”

“Yup.”

“Oh, honey. I’m sure that must’ve been hard for you.”

Peter pursed his lips. “It’s just… I… I didn’t expect to see him. And it’s… he can’t know it’s me so it’s just… he’s just a reminder of what I used to be.”

May nodded. “I’m not gonna pretend I know what you’re feeling, but I’m here for you know. You know that. I know you and Harley were…”

“We were kids,” Peter interrupted. “And I ghosted him for ten years, so I… I’m not exactly the best friend of the year.”

“You were both going through a lot,” May tried to reassure.

“Doesn’t excuse…” Peter cut himself off. “And it’s not like I expect it to be the way it used to be. Like I said, we were kids. We never… we didn’t…” Peter swallowed thickly. “And it’s not your fault that we never had enough money to come visit. But I just…” He closed his eyes. “How do I face him? Knowing that I…” He shook his head. “But he’s doing fine. He’s doing great, actually. He’s friends with Asher Peak which just, of course he’s friends with Asher Peak, and he’s in all the same classes as me so that’s gotta mean something.”

“Wait, go back. Asher Peak? Who’s....”

“The guy who made Harley and my life a living hell in kindergarten and first grade," Peter explained. "But I’m sure he’s… we’re all grown up. I can’t be holding grudges over a guy that bullied me when we were six.”

“That’s right,” May said.

“Anyways, Harley invited me to some party that Asher’s throwing tomorrow and I…”

“That’s great!”

“It’s not  _ great, _ it’s… it’s a liability for my identity.”

“Everything is gonna be a liability, Peter. You can’t expect to just become a reclusive hobbit for the rest of your life. I want you to keep living your life. That’s what this new start is all about.”

“I know, I know, it’s just…”

“You don’t want to risk it and have to start over again.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah.”

“If you don’t want to go to the party, then you don’t have to. But if you’re not going because of the what ifs, then maybe you need to reevaluate your reasoning.”

Peter looked back at his plate. 

“Peter?”

He shifted his gaze up. “Yeah?” 

“I love you.”

Peter smiled softly. “I love you too.” Peter’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He shook his head with a bashful blush as he read the Evite with a Bitmoji. As he became aware of his quickening heartbeat, Peter’s face dropped.  _ Shit. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to chat, my Tumblr is [official-impravidus](official-impravidus.tumblr.com)


	3. caught in the lie

Peter rolled his eyes as he overheard Harley’s conversation on the other side of the table, bragging of his nightly escapades and how he got it on with some poor girl who was beguiled by his charms.

For a moment, Peter had hoped that Harley was an actually decent guy, but the more he heard of his disgustingly detailed, nearly pornographic descriptions of the hot steamy sex he had, the more he cringed and lost faith in the hope of a friendship rekindling.

Harley Keener was an ass. He was chauvinistic, self-centered, frankly quite offensive with the homophobic slurs he casually slipped into conversation, and a disgusting, sex addicted, asshole.

As Peter walked to AP Chem with a clenched jaw, he dropped to his seat, not wanting to face Harley again.

But there he was, a charismatic grin on his lips as he took a seat next to Peter. “Sixth class we’ve got together,” he stated.

Peter nodded. “Yup.”

“Did you take Research Chem at your old school? Because you’re kinda a goner in AP Chem without it.”

Peter shrugged. “Something like that.”

Harley frowned. “What’s the long face for? Can’t make it tonight?”

Peter tensed. “Not sure if it’s really my cup of tea.”

“It’s gonna be a good time. It always is.” He paused. “Well, as fun as a barn full of trashed teens with even trashier music can be.”

That earned a soft snort from Peter.

“See. Look at that smile. Makes me want to see you smile more. Some come tonight. Get something to smile for.”

Peter glanced to him tentatively. “I’ll think on it. Alright?”

“And I’ll see if your thinking helps you make the right choice.”

.-~*~-.

Peter stared at himself in the mirror. “This is stupid. This is so stupid.”

In a pair of red bleached skinny jeans, an oversized white skull tee, and a black denim jacket, he felt absolutely ridiculous and far from himself. ‘ _ But that’s the point right?’ _

“You have a good time,” May told him, giving him a kiss on the head. “And don’t be drinking too much, because you metabolize it so fast that you’ll drink more than normal and bring attention to yourself.”

“Shouldn’t the speech be ‘don’t drink at all?’” Peter questioned.

“You’re seventeen. I don’t expect you to want to have a little fun. I just want you to be careful, be safe, and  _ call me _ if things get out of hand. You have to be especially cautious now that you have a cover of anonymity to withhold, so just don’t be stupid.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

She smiled. “Don’t be out too late.”

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.”

.-~*~-.

Peter wasn’t one for parties. They were loud and sweaty and overwhelming. He never thrived on interaction, at least not with his peers. He would much rather be in his bedroom building a Lego castle with Ned, but that life was gone, and these were the cards he was dealt.

He tapped his foot lightly to the beat of the pop song he didn’t know, grimacing as he took another sip of the monstrosity of whatever alcoholic soaked drink he was drinking. Most of the partygoers were avoiding him like the plague. New emo kid, sulking in the corner, can’t hold a drink. Not intriguing enough to notice but pitiful enough to mock.

He was scrolling through his phone when he heard a familiar voice. 

“You came!”

Peter looked up, eyes meeting bright icy blues. “I did.”

“Having a good time?”

Peter snorted. “Do you want the truth or the answer that’ll make you feel better?”

“I think the truth  _ will _ make me feel better,” Harley said.

“Not really my scene. Like I said, I’m not really the party type,” Peter stated.

“Well that’s too bad. Wouldn’t have pushed you if I’d known you’d be miserable.”

“I wouldn’t say miserable…”

“You look miserable, Kornfield,” Harley interjected. “You can get outta here if you really want.”

Peter shook his head. “That would be more humiliating, even more than it is just me standing here. At least I can say I stayed instead of heading out at…” he checked his watch, “8:47.”

“Then let’s make some fun. You obviously aren’t enjoying that drink, so let’s get you a soda and then let’s bob our heads on the dancefloor since you don’t seem the type who’d want to dance in a crowd of judgmental teens who are basically strangers.”

“I’d like that,” Peter said. “You… you’re different like this.”

Harley gave him a confused glance. “Like what?”

“When you’re not around your friends.”

Harley gave a lopsided grin. “The guys can be a little much, but they mean well.”

“I like you like this,” Peter admitted softly.

“Let’s get you that drink.”

As the two pushed through the crowd, Harley turned around, walking backwards, obviously knowing the barn like the back of his hand. “So what are you doing here in Rose Hill?”

“New job in the family,” Peter replied vaguely. “I’m liking it so far. Nice town.”

“It’s homey. Lots of tradition. Lots of community. It may be small but it’s got a lot of heart.”

“I can tell,” Peter said.

Harley handed him a Sprite. “People got a way of thinkin’ and it takes a lot to break through it. They can be a little thick in the head, but they’ll warm up.” He smiled. “You seem like a good guy, Max Kornfield. You’ll find your place.” He nodded his head to where the bulk of the crowd was crushed together. “Care to join me?”

“Lead the way.”

The two did just as Harley said, bobbing their heads to the beat, sipping on their drinks, sharing surface level pleasantries that morphed into shared laughs. Peter shared carefully crafted stories that didn’t reveal much but were still enough to reminisce on his old life and get a laugh out of Harley. It was the first taste of normality that he had had in months.

“I’m gonna get a refill, but I’ll be back,” Harley said.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Peter grinned.

Peter swayed to the music, eyes closed and body loose, not from alcohol but from the lack of chaos. He was almost relaxed. Almost safe. Almost forgetting the weights heavy on his shoulders.

As Harley returned, he had a tentative smile. “Max… I… I’ve had a really great time.” 

“Yeah. Me too,” Peter replied.

Harley placed a gentle hand to Peter’s cheek, the smaller teen freezing at the action, lost in Harley’s eyes. Harley caressed his skin before plucking his glasses off.

“Hey!” Peter exclaimed. “Give those back!”

Harley disappeared into the crowd. Before Peter could go running after him, he didn’t see as Asher went behind the girl standing beside Peter and groping her ass before slinking away.

She turned around, jaw dropped in shock. She tapped Peter on the shoulder, causing him to turn around confused. 

“Asshole!” She splashed her concoction of punch and vodka into his face, making his contacts burn in his eyes, blurring his vision.

With squinted eyes, he rushed to the bathroom, keeping his head down.

He slammed the door shut, hurrying to the sink to pull out his contacts. It didn’t matter that he was wasting a pair; he had an entire box filled with them. He was more concerned with the painful burning in his eyes from the horrible reaction of the vodka and contact solution.

After plucking the contacts out of his eyes, he remained hunched over the sink, flushing out his eyes with water.

There was a knock at the door.

“Occupied,” Peter said, strained.

“Max? It’s Harley. I… I’ve got your glasses.”

“Fuck off,” Peter called through the door.

“I’m sorry that Asher… he just told me to take your glasses. I didn’t think he’d… or that she’d… I’m sorry.”

“Leave me alone, Keener,” Peter grumbled.

“I just… I have your glasses,” Harley said lamely.

Peter sighed, and pulled open the door, covering his eyes with a towel.

“Shit, are you… are you alright?” Harley asked.

“Vodka and strawberry lemonade in the eyes isn’t the best combo,” Peter said.

“Here, let me see…”

“No!” Peter snapped.

Harley retracted. “I… I’m sorry.”

Peter held his hand out. “Can I have my glasses? I’m leaving.”

“Please, let me drive you home.”

“No,” Peter responded firmly.

“It’s the least I can do, especially when your eyes…”

“I’m fine,” Peter said.

Peter turned around and took off the towel, vision still blurred. “Shit.”

“You could have some serious retinal damage. Seriously, I should…”

“Fine! Okay? You can drive me home.” Peter paused. “Are you even sober enough to drive?”

“I haven’t drank at all tonight.”

Peter frowned. “But you…”

“I’m the designated driver and the one to keep an eye out for the cops. It’s my job to be sober.”

“And the drinks you’ve been pounding?”

“Soda. Lots of it. My mama’s a health nut and doesn’t exactly let me drink soda at home.”

“Oh,” Peter said, staring at the floor.

“Do you want to go?” Harley asked softly.

“Just give me a second.” Peter grabbed his discarded contacts and shoved them into his pocket. “Yeah, I’m ready.” He kept his eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t think I can open my eyes right now.”

Harley gasped quietly. “Do you think you have to go to the ER?”

“No! I mean… no. I just, need to wash my eyes out more.”

“I can wait,” Harley said.

Peter hesitated, but knew that Harley was looking at him expectantly. So, he turned back to the sink and rinsed his eyes out in an awkward silence, relief washing over him as the pain began to subside. He wiped the moisture away and looked up, not realizing his mistake until he locked eyes with Harley.

“Your eyes…” Harley started.

Peter shut them closed, covering them with his baggy sleeve.

Harley pulled his arm down, cogs turning in his mind as the pieces finally fell into place. 

“Open your eyes,” Harley demanded softly.

Peter shook his head.

“Please. Please open your eyes.”

Slowly, Peter released his tight hold as his eyelids were scrunched tight and met Harley’s eyes.

Harley’s jaw dropped. “Peter?” He whispered.

Peter grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

“Peter? Peter Pa…” 

Peter muffled his raising voice with his hands. “Shhh, shhh, shhh, shut the fuck up, Harley.”

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Harley hissed.

“You invited me here,” Peter said flatly.

“I mean  _ here!  _ In Rose Hill! When you’re on trial for the biggest Avenger scandal of the decade!”

“I wouldn’t say the biggest Avenger scandal…”

“For the last months, the entire world was convinced you terrorized the continent of Europe before murdering an innocent man in vengeful cold blood!”

“But I didn’t,” Peter pointed out.

“ _ How  _ are you here? I mean, Jesus. Rose Hill isn’t really a town that’s on Spider-Man’s side.” His eyes went wide. “You’re Spider-Man.”

“Yes…?”

“You know, I had a whole identity crisis when the news broke. I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t you, but it  _ was _ because I can never forget your brown eyes, and everyone around here didn’t know about Spider-Man like I did and they were all taking the side of Mysterio because there wasn’t the Bugle slander and I… you… I… holy shit, Peter. It’s really nice to see you.”

Peter smiled. “It’s nice to see you too.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Occupied!” They yelled in unison.

“Look, Harley, I’ll explain somewhere that isn’t here, so can we please blow this popsicle stand and get the hell out of here before someone else recognizes me?”

“And how are we gonna do that?”

“Oh, I’ve got a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a Starkid reference filled mess. If you got the TGWDLM reference, then you are the realest.
> 
> If you want to chat, my Tumblr is [official-impravidus](https://official-impravidus.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to chat, my Tumblr is [official-impravidus](official-impravidus.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you want to join a Parkner Discord, click [here!](https://discord.gg/vztSVpg)


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